Farther up the valley, beyond the trees, could be seen the roofs of a castle which stood on towering rocks. She did not know who it belonged to, so one day, as she sat by the water, she said aloud: “I wonder who lives there?”
“The witch, the witch!” sang the iris-flowers behind her. The sound went through them like a sigh.
She started and turned round, but there was no one to be seen; and again as she looked the flowers repeated: “The witch, the witch!”
Then she asked them many more questions, but nothing would they say. Perhaps it was all they knew, or perhaps what she took for words was only the rustling of the long stiff leaves one against the other. But that’s as may be. In any case, it roused her curiosity so much that she rose and went off towards the castle. She had no sooner got among the trees than by came the witch herself.
“ ‘WHO ARE YOU?’ INQUIRED THE OLD WOMAN.”
“Who are you?” inquired the old woman.
The Princess explained, and politely asked to be forgiven for trespassing.
“Pray don’t apologize,” said the witch, “and do me the favour to give me your arm as far as my castle. I have, as you see, no staff, and I am not so young as I was.”
The Princess agreed willingly, and they walked on together. The old woman was wrapped in a trailing black cloak, and her hair hung over her eyes, like the hair of all other witches. She seemed rather a pleasant body, though her nose and chin were certainly a little too near together. When they had climbed as far as the castle gate, she invited her companion to come in and rest, and the Princess, who feared nobody, followed her. They sat down together at a window overlooking the valley; from it she could see the winding water and the clump of irises.